


The Nature of a Bastard

by sideficjonsa



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Jon Snow, Dark!Jon, F/M, Incest, Smut, Starks stay in Winterfell, bastard born of lust, jon is a slut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-08-11 21:20:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20160259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sideficjonsa/pseuds/sideficjonsa
Summary: Bastard children were born from lust and lies, men said; their nature was wanton and treacherous.Once Jon had meant to prove them wrong, to show his lord father he could be as good a true son as Robb Stark, but there was nothing he could do to change his nature.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has a bastard's lust, but someone is watching.

He is a bastard named Snow.

_Bastard children were born from lust and lies, men said; their nature was wanton and treacherous._

Once Jon had meant to prove them wrong, to show his lord father he could be as good a true son as Robb Stark, but there was nothing he could do to change his nature. 

He wants to be good, honorable just like his father. Still, the little voice in the back of his mind continues to taunt him, reminding him that even Lord Eddard Stark had succumbed to weakness before.

The only thing Jon could say for himself was that he did what he could to prevent another bastard from plaguing the world, spilling his seed on the backs and thighs and tongues and tits of his bedmates, rather than in their wombs. 

Some of them try, squeezing their cunts, nails clawing into the flesh of his arse as he’s on the verge, but Jon never fails to pull his cock out in time. 

As he slaps his balls against the cook’s daughter’s dripping twat, she begs on her hands and knees for him to come inside her. Jon widens his stance, his shins balancing him behind her on a mound of grain sacks. His hands yank her bouncing hips back against him harder, punishing her raw cunt with his insatiable bastard cock.

“I won’t get a child on you,” he mutters without interrupting his pace. 

The girl reaches beneath her and rubs furiously at her clit, her slick need gushing around his shaft.

“_Please_,” she begs. “I just want to feel it inside me, put it in my arse then, just come in me, oh gods, please!” 

Jon halts abruptly and she groans as he stays solidly inside her, filling her desperate gape with his thick, throbbing cock as she continues to work her clit into madness. 

She starts to clench down and Jon releases a heavy pool of spit from his lips that lands perfectly on her tight pucker. Keeping his cock inserted in her cunt as her pulses build, Jon pushes a thick finger deep into her arsehole. 

The girl screams and her pussy convulses. Then he pushes in a second finger and she comes, drenching his dick with her release. When she comes back down from her peak, she continues rubbing her sloppy cunt and moans, “Please, my lord, fuck me in my arse.”

Jon loves it when they call him my lord, but it only ever happens when he’s got his cock out. He slips from her cunt and pulls his fingers out of her loosened arsehole, spitting on her again as he presses his wide head against her rim. Then he pushes in, watching her swallow his tip as she hisses in pain.

“You alright?” he grunts, pushing in a little more before she answers.

“It’s so big,” she whimpers, “I don’t think it will fit!”

He pushes again, gaining another inch as she cries out in a sharp squeak. 

“My lord!” 

Jon rolls his hips back, retracing his progress and then pushes in again, deeper into her tight heat. “Gods, you feel so good,” he growls. He thrusts back and forward again. “Yes, oh fuck, yes, it’s so tight.”

She clenches around him again and Jon’s balls surge. Soon he is pounding her harder than he had her cunt, and she whimpers and moans as he stretches her tight arsehole. 

“Mmm yes, give it to me, fill me, please!”

He snaps her hips back, pushing his cock as hard as he can inside of her and then explodes a river of gushing sperm into the depths of her arse. 

“Fuuuuck,” he moans, still spurting and sputtering his load into her as she continues to work her cunt into another hot release, squirting all over his balls. 

The girl is whining and wailing through it all, but Jon thinks he hears a sharp gasp come from behind him. He turns to look, his cock still stretched inside the cook’s daughter, but nobody is there. Only a flash of red disappearing from the doorway. 

\---

Jon remembers the first time he’d broken his own vow to himself, his vow to deny his bastard ways. It was during the feast for King Robert. 

He’d had too many cups that night, and after seeing his family paraded in alongside their royal guests, after seeing Sansa walk in beside Joffrey, he’d decided to spend the rest of the evening on his sword work by the stables. Killing something would have been nice, but practice would have to do. 

Uncle Benjen approached him and Jon had begged to leave with him when he went back to the Wall. Jon said he was ready to join the Night’s Watch, but at fourteen Benjen insisted he was still too young to make such an important choice. “Ask me again in two years.”

Reluctantly, Jon agreed, and when Benjen left to find his brother, Jon continued his assault on the straw man. Once he was winded and sweaty, and dizzy from drink, Jon dropped his sword and sat on a bale of hay to rest.

“Giving up already? I thought you almost had him.”

He looked up to see the two most alluring pair of dark eyes he’d ever seen, and beneath them, the most perfect pair of tits, heavy and spilling over the edge of a tight, laced corset. Jon didn’t recognize her, but she was incredible. Sure, most women seem a thing of awe to a boy of ten and four, but she was objectively stunning. 

Jon leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and draping his hands over his lap, in the hopes of hiding the instant erection her appearance had caused.

“I’m Beth,” the girl told him as she stepped closer. Jon still hadn’t closed his mouth. “Are you okay?”

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. I’m um, Jon. Jon Snow.” 

She giggled, her tits bouncing a little. “I know that. You’re Lord Stark’s son.”

Jon blushed, but he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because it was another reminder of the stain he carried with him, everyone seeing it whether he’d met them or not. Maybe it was just the thought of this girl knowing who he was. Or maybe it was that she kept moving closer to him, until those perfect tits were mere inches from his face. 

His eyes were glued to her chest, and she giggled again as she brought her fingers up to graze along her cleavage. 

“Do you like them?” she asked seductively. 

Jon nodded and then his mouth dropped open again as she untied the top of her corset and they spilled out entirely, her puffy pink nipples tightening in the night air. 

“Do you want to touch them?” 

He didn’t know what to say or do, but then she lifted both of his hands to her body and that’s all it took. He groped her viciously, then put his mouth to her, sucking her teats like a babe as his cock raged inside his breeches. 

It was only when she’d freed the raging beast that Jon finally tried to control himself. 

“I can’t,” he urged, dropping her nipple from his mouth. 

Her skirts were already pulled up and she nearly had him inside her as she straddled his lap, resting her entrance on his tip. “Why not?”

“I… I’m a bastard.”

“So am I.”

She rubbed his cock against her warm, wet slit and he groaned. 

“I don’t want to get another on you,” he tried again, his last effort.

She giggled again, and again, he blushed. “Just pull out.”

“What?”

“Don’t spill inside me. When you feel it coming, tell me and I’ll stop.” 

“But–”

“You can finish on my tits.” With that she pushed a nipple back into his lips and sunk down, taking his virgin cock deep inside her tight, hot cunt. 

Jon held on for dear life, sucking her tits, releasing one with a pop as he moved to the other, struggling to keep latched as her hips rocked and bounced on his cock. It didn’t take long for him to warn her that he was close, and almost instantly she lifted herself from his lap and dropped to her knees. 

She took him in her hand and pumped his cock until he started to come. Ropes of white seed shot out and landed on the pillow of her chest, painting her neckline with his lust. He watched in awe as she laughed and jiggled her tits, bending her head to lick some of it off herself. 

“You have a pretty cock, Jon Snow.” 

He didn’t know what to say to that. Still speechless, he simply stared at her as she fixed the front of her dress, then stood up and walked back to the feast. 

With his cock still hanging loose, Jon was startled by a noise coming from the shadows behind him. He quickly adjusted himself back into his breeches and stood, turning to see who was there. Then is heart sunk into his gut as he saw Sansa step into the light. 

When she saw him, she seemed just as shocked as he was. “Oh,” she gasped, “hello Jon.” 

“Sansa, what are you doing out here?” In his mortification, he’d sounded far too accusing and she flinched.

“I…” 

He sighed apologetically, but before he could question her again more gently she started to cry. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to – Sansa?”

Her sobs grew stronger and soon Jon realized she was upset about more than just his tone. Against his better instincts, he moved closer and touched her shoulder. “What is it?”

To his complete astonishment, Sansa through her arms around his neck and pressed her face to his chest as she continued to cry. 

“Sansa,” he begged, pulling her close, rubbing her back softly to comfort her – from what, he still did not know. 

“Oh Jon, it was so awful.” 

“What was, sweet girl? What happened?” 

Her choking gasps made it difficult for her to speak, but through her tears she told him. “Prince Joffrey… he asked me to go for a walk with him.”

“Alone?”

She nodded against him and his blood started to heat as he pulled her back by the arms to look at her wet face. “Did he do something to you? Sansa, did he hurt you?” 

Sansa opened her mouth, but all she could get out was another sobbing moan. Jon pulled her back into his arms and held her tightly. 

“I know I shouldn’t have gone with him,” she whimpered. “Father said I should never go anywhere alone at night, but Joffrey said I wouldn’t be alone, I’d be with the prince. He said he would protect me. Jon, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I never should have gone.”

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s not your fault.” 

When she was finally able to catch her breath, he brought her into the stables where they could speak in private, in case anybody should be walking by. He sat her down on a hay bale and brushed back some of her hair that had clung to her tear-soaked cheek. 

“Sansa, it’s okay. Just tell me what happened and I will make it better, alright? I’ll fix this, whatever it is.”

She glanced at him warily, sniffing. “Promise you won’t tell anyone? If Father ever found out, or my _mother_… oh gods, Jon. Nobody can know about this.” 

“No one will know, Sansa. I promise. Please just tell me what happened.”

She took a deep breath, wiping her nose on her sleeve, and then began. “I took him to see the glass gardens. He said he hated how cold the North is and wanted to be inside something warm.”

Jon’s stomach turned. He pressed his hands against his knees to keep them from shaking. 

“Sansa, what did he do?”

“He… he kissed me. I didn’t want him to, but… I don’t know what happened. One minute I was showing him the lemon tree and the next he was pushing me against it and he was kissing me. I tried to scream but he put his tongue in my mouth.”

She started crying again and Jon was speechless as she continued, his body trembling with rage. 

“Jon, he… he pulled his… _thing_ out and made me touch it. I told him I didn’t want to. I tried to pull away but he was too strong. He held me there and pushed his _thing_ against my hand until he…” She dropped her face into her folded arms across her knees. 

Jon moved a little closer to her, placing one hand on her back, soothing her gently. “Until he what, Sansa?” 

She couldn’t say it, it was too humiliating. Instead she moved her cloak back and showed Jon the stain on her pretty gray dress. Then she cried again as he held her. 

“It’s alright, sweet girl. I won’t let him ever touch you again, I promise.” 

“But I’m supposed to _marry_ him. Oh Jon, what am I going to do?” 

“Nothing. You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of it.”

She didn’t ask him to explain, she was too exhausted, and so when he offered to escort her back to her chambers she let him. Jon waited with his back turned as she changed, and when she was dressed for bed he offered to take the dress and clean it for her so nobody would see. Then he tucked her beneath the furs, kissed her forehead softly, and stayed by her side until she fell asleep. 

The next morning, Sansa rose from bed to discover the castle had been struck by tragedy overnight. The poor prince, having celebrated too vigorously with is Northern hosts, had accidentally fallen from the highest window of the broken tower and snapped his neck. He was found dead in the snow by the groundskeeper early the next morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa continues to watch Jon and Winterfell is visited by the Boltons.

It had been nearly two years and Sansa had never spoken to Jon of what happened that night. She’d actually avoided him altogether, for the most part. 

After Joffrey’s tragic death, Sansa stayed in her room for nearly a week. Jon overheard King Robert briefly mention betrothing Sansa to Tommen instead, but Ned had insisted that talks of marriage could wait. The girl was clearly too distraught for such things yet. 

Jon didn’t care, though. He’d just been happy to see the King’s party leaving Winterfell. Lord Stark was set to travel south a few months after to take his place as Hand of the King, but before he left the news of King Robert’s death reached the North, along with a letter from the Queen Mother stating that Tywin Lannister would be fulfilling the duties of Hand to King Tommen. So, the Starks remained in Winterfell where they belonged. 

After seeing what he thought was red hair disappearing from the doorway as he fucked the cook’s daughter, and after thinking about that strange night two years before, Jon dreams of Sansa.

At first, the dream is just random images. Her tear stained face, her long red hair, her hands gently brushing Lady’s coat. But soon the visions morph, and Sansa is laying in his bed beneath him. 

Her skin is bare, her delicate tits are shifting with the movement of his hips, and her long legs tighten around his waist as he thrusts into her tight, bleeding cunt. She feels so good, _too_ good, and Jon presses his lips to hers and comes inside of her.

When he wakes, his bed is empty of all but himself, and pooled between his stomach and the furs is the seed he’d dreamt of releasing into his sister. 

Jon decides to skip breakfast and goes for a swim in the godswood to try and clear his mind. He’d been spreading his seed even more than usual as of late, as Benjen is scheduled for another visit soon and Jon still intends to join him when he returns to the Wall. 

He tells himself his bastard nature has become too untamed, and that’s probably the reason for his depraved dream - all the more reason for him to go. 

After keeping himself beneath the surface for as long as can, hoping for the cold water to drown his thoughts and smother his erection, Jon lifts his head from the pool and sees two girls standing on the bank. He knows them well. 

One has hair the color of straw, Lily, and the other is red-haired, like Sansa. He can’t seem to remember her name, though. 

Lily whispers something into the other’s ear as they both stare at him, then they laugh.

“Something funny?” he asks as he swims closer. 

The redhead curls her finger toward herself and when he reaches the edge she squats before him, lifting her hand to his wet curls. Jon stares at her long hair falling over her shoulder until her fingers pull back and she spin something in front of his eyes. A weirwood leaf. 

“This was in your hair,” she teases, brushing it along his cheek. 

“You don’t like it?” he asks with offense, moving his hand up her skirt so that it falls back on her bent legs. “I wore it just for you.” 

The girl smiles and then licks her lips as his hand moves further up her thigh until he reaches her cunt and he brushes it lightly. 

“What about me?” Lily whines as she kneels behind the other girl. Jon looks up at her pouting face, still rubbing his thumb in the soft red curls of the girl squatting before him. “Sara, I think he likes you better.”

_Sara, that’s her name._

“I just think he has a thing for gingers,” she laughs, reaching behind her to stroke her friend’s yellow hair. Then she turns her face so that their soft lips are brushing. “You’re far prettier than me.”

Lily presses her lips to Sara’s and Jon watches as their tongues entwine and Sara pull down the top of the other girl’s bodice to play with her tits. He lifts himself higher from the water and pushes his head between Sara’s thighs. 

She moans against her friend’s lips as he licks and laps her wet cunt, drinking from her flowing desire as she rocks her hips. Then he feels them shift and looks up with his tongue still inside Sara to see Lily lift her full breasts to her friend’s keening mouth. Sara sucks on her nipples and Jon pushes two fingers inside her cunt, making her moan against Lily.

He keeps fucking her with his fingers until she comes, her cries echoing through the godswood. Normally, Jon would be concerned with the loud sound, fearing Lady Catelyn might find him out as the lust-filled bastard she’d always expected him to be. But he is leaving for the Wall soon, so what could she do to him? 

Joining the Night’s Watch will be Jon’s repentance for his sins, but until that day comes he’s going to earn his exile. 

He hops out of the pool, naked, cock hard as steel, and retrieves his cloak. “Get undressed,” he commands them both, and as they pull off their clothes he spreads his heavy cloak across the ground.

Soon the three of them are a writhing mass of limbs and tongues and sweat. Lily moves down to take Jon’s cock in her mouth and he lays on his back, pulling Sara’s thighs around his neck as he dives back into her cunt for another feast. 

The warm slick of her folds smothers his face as she rides him, and he groans against her clit as Lily pulls his cock to the back of her throat. It feels so good that Jon’s eyes roll back. He pushes his tongue deep into Sara, then drags it up to her clit as he tilts his head back, driving his chin against her as his eyes catch sight of something that makes him gasp.

Sansa is standing beside the weirwood, watching them. 

His jaw drops open but before he can say anything, Sara presses her cunt down and smothers his words with her heat. Jon’s eyes stay locked in horror on his sister, but she doesn’t seem to know that he can see her. 

He watches Sansa, with one girl swallowing his cock and another fucking his face, and for some reason he doesn’t stop any of it. 

Then he sees one of Sansa’s delicate hands move to the center of her skirt, pressing down as if she were a child needing to pee. The sight makes his cock surge and he squeezes his eyes closed, pushing hard against the dripping, writhing pussy on top of him and starts to come, shooting seed from his cock into Lily’s mouth as he groans so hard it makes Sara squirt all over his face. 

When he opens his eyes again and looks up, Sansa is gone. 

\---

Jon tried to find Sansa after leaving the godswood, but she’d eluded him for the remainder of the day. He’s glad of it, though, as he’s still unsure of what he would say to her. When he retires to his room for night, Jon finds himself thinking of his morning and his cock grows hard. 

Laying naked atop his furs, he wraps his hand around his thick shaft and strokes himself. He tries to think about the taste of Sara’s cunt, about the feel of Lily’s warm mouth drinking his seed, but his mind keeps slipping back to Sansa. 

The way her mouth was parted, those pretty pink lips, Jon can’t help imagining they were the ones sucking his cock so perfectly. And when she touched herself, _gods_, there was no denying that when he’d pushed his face into those wet red curls he wanted them to be hers. 

Jon comes so hard he nearly moans his sister’s name, but all that escapes his lips is a searing hiss as his seed spurts onto his chest. 

He lay there panting, trying to clear his mind enough to sleep, but then the sound of his bedroom door shutting jolts him back to full attention. He sits up, covering himself with his hand, but nobody is there. 

Jon stares at his door a moment longer – he could’ve sworn he’d shut it when he came in – then he pulls on a shirt and breeches to go investigate. 

It isn’t until he gets to the hall containing his siblings’ chambers that Jon finally sees something, a flash of red disappearing into Sansa’s room just before her door closes. He looks up and down the abandoned corridor, then back at the wall between him and his little sister. 

He knows he should speak to her, he’d been trying all day after all, but now he can’t bring himself to knock. What would he say? How would he go about asking why she’s been watching him, and what could he say in response to any reason she might give?

Jon sighs, turning to go back to his own room, when he hears something from inside her chamber. It sounds as if she is crying. This makes his heart sink and he decides that no matter how embarrassed he is, he’d never want to hurt her, so if seeing him had frightened her then she deserves an explanation. 

He steps closer to the door and is about to knock when, suddenly, the noise coming from within gets louder, becomes clearer. Sansa is saying his name. Jon touches the handle to her door, ready to go in, but then she releases a long, staggering, and unmistakable moan.

“Mmm… yes…_Jon_!”

Instantly, his cock is hard again. Jon releases the handle of her door and rushes back to his room to take himself in hand one more time. 

\---

The next morning, Jon is waiting for Sansa at the end of her corridor as she heads out to break her fast. When she rounds the corner she gasps, practically running into his solid form.

“Jon, what are you… I’m sorry I didn’t see you.” 

She keeps walking, but Jon stays by her side and escorts her. When a servant passing them in the opposite direction is out of ear shot, he leans in and whispers, “What are you doing?”

Sansa plays dumb – something he hates – and then she shrugs. “I’m going to breakfast.”

Jon stops and pulls her arm until she turns to face him. “You know what I mean, Sansa. You’ve been watching me.”

She looks him in the eye, but her expression remains frustratingly blank. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lies effortlessly. Then she gives him a polite smile as she pulls her arm from his hand and continues her path to the Great Hall several paces in front of him.

They arrive to take their meal, Jon entering well after Sansa, but they are both equally shocked to see that guests have joined their family. Roose Bolton is seated at the high table beside their father, and to his left is a young man with a sinister expression on his face.

Sansa approaches her mother, who pulls out a chair for her to sit, and Jon takes goes to one of the lower seats as he always does. Still, he keeps his eyes and ears on the happenings at the main table. Robb glances at him and the look in his eyes tells Jon he isn’t happy with the company either. 

“Sansa, this is Lord Bolton,” their father tells her, “and his son, Ramsay.” 

“Lovely to meet you,” Sansa replies courteously. 

Ramsay smiles at her in a way that makes Jon’s blood go cold, but if it upsets Sansa she doesn’t show it. Jon wonders if she knows the boy is a bastard, a fact that was clear to him the moment he entered the hall. He didn’t need to see the reversed colors of the flayed man on Ramsay’s cloak. Bastards have a certain look about them, something Jon can recognize from glance.

Apparently, the Lord of the Dreadfort has come to pay his respects to House Stark and discuss the recent changes in tax policies established by the Crown. Jon gets the feeling that there is more to this visit than that, however. 

After breakfast, Sansa and Arya head to their sewing lessons and Jon joins Robb and Theon in the training yard. To his surprise, Bolton’s bastard is not with them.

“Lord Stark’s guest doesn’t feel the need to train then?” Jon sneers as he approaches the others. 

Robb shrugs and Theon smirks. 

“Too bad,” Theon offers. “I hear the little twat is a right cunt. Wouldn’t mind landing a few _accidental_ blows to his stupid face.”

“You hear?” Robb questions, but Jon knows where Theon gets most of his gossip.

“A few weeks back, the girls at the Wintertown brothel were all talking about the bastard. Sick fuck.”

“What do you mean?” Jon asks with concern. If the whores are disturbed by this boy, he must have done something pretty revolting.

“Well, Ros told me he likes to get rough. Not just regular rough either. He offered to pay her more than a week’s earnings to let him cut her while he buggered her.”

“_Cut_ her?” Robb asks in shock, but Jon just broods as his blood heats, the smile Ramsay gave Sansa flashing in his mind. 

Theon nods and continues offering what he knows. “When she turned him down, he smacked her and split her lip. He didn’t cut her but he buggered her all the same.”

“That’s awful,” Robb frowns. 

“That’s not all,” Theon adds. “His father had to come and get him from the brothel before he dishonored their family further. Apparently, Lord Bolton didn’t just come to Winterfell to discuss taxes. He wants to legitimize the bastard as his heir.”

“Why?” Jon demands, his voice so threatening it pulls both Theon and Robb’s attention to him with a jerk.

Theon just shrugs, the extent of his knowledge having reached its limit. “Maybe he wants to marry him off to someone highborn.”

Just then, a flash of red catches Jon’s attention and he sees Sansa walking with Lady toward the stables. Beside her is the bastard, Ramsay. 

“I need a piss,” Jon announces crudely, and leaves the other two to train alone before either can question his hasty departure. 

Following silently at a distance, Jon watches Sansa and her escort make their way around the courtyard. Ramsay speaks false pleasantries to her and it makes Jon fantasize about squeezing the bastard’s neck until his dying eyes bleed from the strain. Then they disappear together behind the stables.

Before Jon can get his eyes on them again, he hears Lady release an attacking snarl that had never before come from the elegant beast. He rushes forward to see Ramsay backed against the wall of the stables and Sansa pulling on her wolf’s neck.

“Lady!” she scolds the still-growling animal. “Stop it, what’s gotten into you?”

“Everything alright?” Jon asks as he approaches the scene. Sansa looks up, confused to see him there, and then pulls on Lady again.

“Nothing concerning you, bastard,” Ramsay answers with one eye still on the wolf. 

“Jon,” Sansa intervenes as her half-brother moves aggressively closer to the boy against the wall. “It’s alright, we were just going for a walk. Lady must be hungry, I don’t know why she’s acting this way.”

Jon moves closer, not taking his eyes from the smirking bastard. “Go Sansa, take her to the kennels to feed. I’ll escort our guest back to his father.”

“Jon, I really don’t think–”

“_Now_,” he barks and Sansa hurries away, dragging Lady by her leash after her. 

When she’s out of sight, Jon steps directly in front of Ramsay and pushes him back against the wall again. The bastard simply continues to smirk, though.

“Something wrong, bastard?” 

Jon’s lip curls as he brings his face close enough to smell the foul stench of Ramsay’s breath. “Touch my sister, and I’ll kill you before her wolf gets the chance. Understand, _bastard_?”

Ramsay laughs, then shoves Jon off of him. As he straightens his cloak he says, “Didn’t you hear? I’ve been naturalized by order of your father, bastard. My father intends to offer a marriage between me and your pretty sister. So, I suppose I’ll be _touching_ her all I want soon enough. Unless you plan to murder me like you did the Prince.” 

Jon is too shocked to respond right away. He keeps his posture threateningly close all the same, though and Ramsay laughs again.

“That’s right, bastard. Did you think people don’t know about that? What _really_ happened to the last man your sister was meant to marry?” 

Jon flinches his jaw just enough to confess the truth of it. 

“What’s the matter, don’t like to share? Angry you don’t get to keep that soft virgin cunt all to yourself?” 

This crosses the line and Jon closes his hand around Ramsay’s throat. To his surprise though, it only makes the bastard laugh harder. 

“You sick fuck,” Ramsay wheezes against the choking grip of Jon’s fist. “Everyone knows you can’t keep your cock out of anything with tits from here to White Harbor, but your own _sister_?”

Jon presses harder until the only noise able to escape the bastard’s purple lips is a weak rasp. Ramsay reaches for the dagger at his side and draws it, but Jon is quicker. He catches the bastard’s hand and pushes his own blade through his ribs so quietly that the only evidence of a struggle comes when Jon drops Ramsay’s throat and the bastard falls dead into the dirt. 

He watches the life drain from Ramsay’s eyes first, then from his face as it goes white, and keeps watching until his twitching legs completely still and the dagger falls from the bastard’s limp fist. 

Later, after Jon has washed the blood from his hands, he heads to the Great Hall to find his father. He’s prepared to confess his crime, along with his intention of taking the Black, but when he enters the hall he finds Sansa crying in her mother’s arms, and Lady standing by her side with blood staining her jowls. 

Ned Stark is in the center of the hall, viciously threatening Lord Bolton. 

“I should have you stripped of your title and sent to the Wall,” he spits. “To think, after granting you leave to make that boy your heir.”

“My son was murdered!” Bolton argues, but the Stark guards beside him restrain him back. 

“Your son attacked my daughter, and her wolf protected her, as I have trained all my children’s wolves to do. Or are you calling the defense of Lady Sansa’s virtue murder?” 

Sansa glances at Jon pointedly from her mother’s arms, narrowing her eyes as if to warn him away from speaking, then dramatically starts to cry again. 

“That beast killed my son!” Bolton continues, but the guards keep him at bay. “I want it slaughtered!” 

“No!” Sansa cries, running from her mother to her father, tears pouring down her face. “Lady was protecting me, father! I swear it! Ramsay, he… he tried to touch me. He said… he said we were to be married and that soon he could touch me all he wants. He said… oh Father, I can’t repeat it.”

“Sansa, I’m afraid you’ll have to,” Ned Stark tells her regretfully. “It isn’t your fault, but a boy is dead, so tell it all and tell it true.”

Sansa sniffs, looking toward Jon, and the rest of them suddenly notice his presence. Before anyone can question it though, Sansa says, “He said he wanted my s..soft virgin c..cunt.” 

She throws her face against her father’s chest, ashamed to have said such a word, and as she cries in his arms she tells the rest. 

“He grabbed me and I screamed. Then he pulled out his dagger and that’s when Lady attacked. She bit his throat and I tried to stop her but she kept biting him all over. His ribs, his arms, even his hand with the dagger in it. Oh daddy, it was so frightening!”

“Lord Bolton,” he declares, soothing Sansa in his arms. “There have been enough disgraceful reports of your bastard from the brothels to provide proof of his guilt, without my precious daughter having to repeat such vile words. But she’s done so now, and I trust it will satisfy your query into what happened. Unless you intend to dishonor yourself further by accusing her of lies.”

“No, my lord.” Even Roose Bolton can’t deny that Sansa would never say such a thing unless repeating what she’d heard from someone like Ramsay. “Forgive me, and I pray you allow this ugly business end with my son’s life.”

“I understand you hoped to curb your bastard’s nature by giving him a true name, so that he might marry and put the brothels behind him. But if you actually thought I would give _my_ daughter to be his wife, perhaps I should reconsider whether having such a fool holding the Dreadfort is in the best interest of the North.”

“No, my lord, of course not.” Roose shakes his head in insistence. “I’d intended to make a match with one of the Frey girls, as Lord Frey has plenty of daughters he hopes to offload. Ramsay spoke out of turn in that assumption, and he paid the price. With your leave, I’ll return to the Dreadfort at once and take one of the Freys for my own wife. Perhaps I can produce a true heir who will restore the honor to House Bolton that my bastard has diminished.”

Lord Stark releases Sansa back into the arms of her mother, who watches Jon with a curious look. Then Lady Catelyn’s attention is pulled back to her husband as he answers.

“Bastards are still the sons of their fathers. Ramsay was raised to be what he was, and any true son raised with similar disregard for honor would be just as abhorrent.” The disgust in Lord Stark’s voice is clear. Roose Bolton nods, accepting his condemnation. 

Jon finds himself flushing, still standing in the shadows at the back of the hall in witness to all that has occurred. He wants to believe his father’s words, that bastards are not born evil but made that way by their fathers, but he knows the truth of it. He has the most honorable father in the land, yet he is now a murderer twice over. He has a bastard’s lust and worst of all he is standing silent as he allows his sister to lie for him, his sister he envisions while stroking his own cock.

“Go, Lord Bolton.” Jon’s attention returns to his father. “Return to the Dreadfort, take your wife if one will have you, but know this – should I hear of any more reports I find displeasing, I will exile you without a moment’s hesitation.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Roose Bolton nods, and when the guards release him he scurries from the hall, sparing only a frightened glance at Jon as he passes.


	3. Chapter 3

Jon needs to find relief, for the events of the days, for the murder he’d committed and the lies he’d allowed Sansa to tell to cover it up. He finds Lily in the courtyard, not trusting himself with the redhead now, and brings her to his room for a frantic fuck.

She sucks his cock first, but after spilling down her throat he’s still hard as a rock so he takes her from behind, bending her over his bed as he sinks into her throbbing wet cunt. 

“Oh gods,” she moans as he pulls her hair from behind. “Jon you’re so big. Yes, fuck me with that angry cock!” 

He grips her hips as he slams into her, sweat dripping down his back as he smacks harder and harder against her thighs with his own. Images invade his mind as he fucks her though, and no matter how deep inside her he thrusts he can’t make them stop. Blood on his hands, blood on his cock, blood on Lady’s mouth and blood on Sansa’s thighs. He feels as though he’s going mad as he pushes faster and faster, driving his cock to the point of breaking until he feels Lily’s cunt pulsing and clenching as she comes. 

Finally, Jon opens his eyes, slowing his pace as Lily comes down from her peak, her head pressed deep in the furs on his bed as she gushes around his thick cock. To his continued surprise, Sansa is standing in his doorway, peering through a crack in its opening. 

This time though, Jon catches her in the act of watching him but she does not retreat. With his dick still aching inside of Lily, he keeps his angry stare fixed on his sister and resumes fucking the moaning girl on his bed. 

He sees Sansa gasp and he moves one hand to Lily’s back, keeping her pushed down into the bed as he fucks her harder than he ever has. Jon leans over her body, pressing his weight against the girl as his eyes penetrate Sansa in his doorway. He grunts, growls, and groans, slapping his balls against the wet twat of the milkmaid keening on his bed. 

When he feels himself approaching the end, he pushes Lily flat on her stomach and pulls his cock from her cunt, kneeling over her on the bed as he starts to come. Jon stares directly at Sansa, stroking his cock as bursts of thick semen spurt forth onto the girl’s back, and continues eyeing his little sister until he’s released the last of his load and wipes the tip of his dick off on Lily’s arse. 

Jon stands back from the bed, naked and sweating, his softening cock swinging between his thighs. Sansa watches him and he watches her as she licks her lips, her eyes taking in every inch of his body from the doorway. Then, just as Jon shifts toward her, Lily moves and Sansa disappears. 

“Can you get me a cloth?” 

“Uh, yeah sorry.” 

He walks to the wash basin and grabs a rag, wetting it, then he brings it to Lily and cleans his spill off of her before collapsing beside her on the bed. As Jon stares at his ceiling he feels a hand touch his cock and looks down. 

“One more go?” the girl asks, stroking his stiffening shaft. 

Jon sighs and then smiles, pulling her by her thighs until she is astride him. “If that’s all you can take,” he answers and shoves himself into her cunt yet again. 

She rides him at a lazy pace as he watches her full tits bounce up and down, but he only lays still on his back for a while, letting her use him for her own pleasure as he tries to think of what he will say to Sansa. They have to talk about things now, there is no more avoiding it. 

\---

The next day is when he gets his chance to confront her. He spots her hiding behind a hay bale in the stables as he enters with Bella, a giggling young maid with dark braids hanging over each shoulder, tickling her perky tits Jon has pulled free before even getting all the way inside the barn. 

This time, he doesn’t intend to let Sansa disappear. He closes the stable door and presses Bella up against it. _If she wants to watch, she can watch. But she’s not leaving until we talk._

“Isn’t this where that boy was killed?” Bella asks in a high, airy voice as Jon brings one of her dark nipples into his mouth.

“I don’t know,” he grunts back. 

Bella starts to ask another question but then Jon covers her lips with his and pushes his tongue into her mouth to silence the inquest. Then he turns them both so that his back is now against the wall and guides her to her knees, deciding there is a better way to keep her mouth occupied. 

As Jon opens his breeches, he sees Sansa peek around the bale of hay she’d hidden behind. He takes his cock in his hand, holding Bella back by her braid for a moment, making sure to give Sansa a good look as he strokes his length for her. 

“You want that?” he asks, keeping his eyes on his sister for a beat longer before looking down at the girl on her knees. She looks up at him and smiles, licking her lips, and Jon brushes his fingers through her hair. “You want to suck my cock?”

The girl moves her eyes from Jon’s back down to his throbbing erection and he peers at Sansa again. Then, as if answering his question, Sansa nods. Jon widens his eyes and pushes himself into the waiting mouth at his crotch, biting his lip as he continues to stare at his sister while being sucked off by the maid. 

“You have such a pretty mouth,” he tells Sansa directly. “It’s so perfect.”

The girl on her knees moans with the compliment not meant for her, and Sansa covers her mouth to hide her laugh. Jon groans as the girl swallows him down her throat, keeping her face pressed to his groin for a moment before pulling him out entirely and moving her mouth down to his balls. 

Sansa steps out a little further from behind the bale and Jon nearly comes as he sees her skirt lifted and her hand pushed into her smallclothes. He lowers his eyes and watches as she moves against herself in a rocking, circling motion. Then she bites the palm of her free hand to keep from keening as her face flushes and her movements quicken. 

Jon grabs the back of the maid’s head pushing his length back through her lips, needing his release. As it comes, so does Sansa. Her eyes squeeze shut and her knee buckle a bit, causing her to fall back against the hay. Jon releases a loud groan to cover the noise, keeping the girl pressed to his groin as his balls expel his thick load down her throat. 

When he’s finished, the girl stands and wipes her mouth. Sansa dips back behind the hay out of sight and Jon pushes Belle back against the door, lifting her skirts as he drops to his knees to eat her cunt. But just then, Lady Catelyn calls for her and the girl hurries out of the stables, promising to find Jon later to finish what they’d begun. 

Panting on his knees, facing the door as it closes, Jon tries to gather his thoughts as he pushes his cock back into his breeches. A sudden wave of guilt rushes over him and he drops his head into his hand. But before he can decide how to proceed, he feels a soft hand touch the back of his neck. 

“Jon,” she whispers softly, “are you alright?”

It is only then he realizes he is crying. 

“I’m sorry,” he answers without looking at her. “Sansa, you should go. Please stop watching me. It isn’t right. None of this is right.”

“But–”

“I killed him. And let you take the blame.” 

“Yes, but he–”

“It doesn’t matter!” Jon yells, feeling her hand flinch back from his neck as he rises angrily to his feet. “Just _go_!” He opens the door to the stables without looking at her, too ashamed, and she leaves as he slams it shut behind her.

Jon spends the next hour ripping apart bales of hay in a violent rage, then a few more hours after that raking and binding them back together. When he’s finished, he returns to the castle with the intention of going to bed, but instead he finds himself standing outside of her door. 

“Sansa,” he calls through the door, “can I come in?” 

No answer returns to him, but then he hears her. This time there is no mistaking it, she’s crying. He turns the latch to her door and peeks inside to see her sitting with her back to him on a small trunk at the foot of her bed. 

“Sansa?” 

She sniffs and wipes her face, but still faces away. Jon feels his stomach clench, furious with himself for making her upset, and all he wants to do is go to her. 

“Do you want me to leave?”

Her head shakes from side to side but she doesn’t speak to him. Jon enters her room fully and closes the door behind him, pressing his back against it to steady himself.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” he begins, “and I’m sorry for everything else.”

Sansa sighs, lowering her head, and he sees her wipe her face again. Jon closes his eyes, squeezing them shut for a moment, before opening them again and lifting his glance up to the ceiling. 

“I should have put an end to this the first time I…” He pauses and then begins again. “I shouldn’t have been doing those things in the first place, not here, not at all really. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Sansa. I suppose I’m just… not a good man.”

She’s gone quiet but Jon keeps his eyes on the ceiling. 

“Uncle Benjen is coming to visit soon, and when he does I’ll be leaving with him when he goes back to the Wall. I’m taking the Black.”

At this, Sansa gasps and Jon looks at her again as she stands, turning to him with a look of desperate panic on her flushed face.

“What? Jon, no, you _can’t_!” More tears fill her eyes and it breaks his heart. Then he looks down to the floor, no longer able to face her.

He feels her move closer and it scares him. 

“Jon, please don’t go. I’ll stop following you, I promise. I’m sorry!” Suddenly her hands fall on his shoulders and her face presses against his chest. “Please don’t leave me, Jon.”

“I have to,” he whispers, bringing a gentle hand to her hair. “It’s the only way.”

“The only way for what?” 

“To protect you.”

Sansa pulls back her face, but still touches him with her hands. “What are you talking about? Jon, you do protect me, you _did_. That’s why you have to stay. How can you protect me if you’re gone?” 

“Oh, sweet girl.” He brings a hand to her cheek and wipes her tears, but his own start to well up now. “I have to protect you from _me_. The things I’ve done, the things I _want_ to do… I don’t want to hurt you. I’m afraid I already have.” 

Sansa pulls her body closer and Jon takes a deep breath. “You haven’t, Jon. I want those things too.”

She lowers one hand from his shoulder and slides it down his side, making him tremble, and he sighs, “Sansa…”

Her hand closes around his hanging by his side and she lifts it to her body, pressing his touch to her waist, then she lifts her eyes to him and whispers, “Kiss me, Jon.” 

His lips part, prepared to argue, but then his hand grips her tight and his mouth finds hers in a desperate, deep surrender. Sansa gasps, then moans, and Jon brushes her lips with his tongue. Her mouth opens to let him in, and when he tastes her for the first time the world around him disappears. 

Sansa lifts both her hands to his chest and then they slide up around his neck, pulling him closer as he devours her completely. His cock hardens against her hip and soon she is rutting against it as he thrusts back against her. It feels perfect, to be in her arm, her tongue dancing with his, his blood pulsing through him like a beating war drum. 

But then the images start to flood him again. Sansa trembling after Joffrey’s assault, washing the stain from her dress, washing the blood from his hands, watching her cry into their father’s arms as she confesses to his crime. It’s all too much and he shoves her back with such a force she nearly falls. 

Sansa stares at him, shocked and questioning, but before she can ask him what she did, he storms out of her room, slamming the door behind him.


End file.
